


You Always Hunt the One You Love

by MidKnight2501



Series: Fall Behind Left Behind [3]
Category: James Bond - Fandom, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidKnight2501/pseuds/MidKnight2501
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond tries to keep his attention on the antique silver tea service and off Silva’s fingers as they peel the rind off an orange, curling, nails sharp, digging under the pith to bare the soft, wet, flesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Always Hunt the One You Love

They have breakfast on the veranda of the hotel, fifty-eight stories up, with the wind blowing clean and strong over the city and the midmorning sun making everything below in the city shine like polished silver. Bond tries to keep his attention on the antique silver tea service- which shimmers like the vista- and off Silva’s fingers as they peel the rind off an orange, curling, nails sharp, digging under the pith to bare the soft, wet, flesh.

James keeps his eyes on all four legs of the tea pot and picks at his toast. Silva sucks a slice of orange out from between his fingers, reading the Japanese news on his Kindle. James’ gaze flicks over Silva’s shoulder to Severine- who has her very own table in the corner of the veranda and is glancing over at them both with a mixture of fear, curiosity, and disdain. She’s pretty in a copper sheath dress and is on her fourth shot of espresso. 

There are two guards by the doors with huge automatic rifles- and navy sweaters- and two at the edges of the veranda but other than that the veranda is empty and the city is far enough below them that it’s almost quiet. He half expects if he was allowed to look over the edge there would be no one below- like Tokyo could be a ghost town. It’s the most peaceful he’s ever seen the city. 

James picks up his toast, takes a huge bite, and Silva sighs- a horrid, long, post coital sort of sound complete with an arm stretch and the toast turns to dust in his throat. 

“Isn’t this just a lovely morning?” Silva says with all the good will in the world, grinning.  
~~

Silva drags him out of bed at gunpoint in the middle of the night- James fights with the sheets, wishing he hadn’t slept in his boxer briefs, but Silva has a hand wrapped around his elbow and what looks like it might be a Sig Sauer X5- it’s hard to tell with only the light coming in from the floor to ceiling windows but the ridges underneath are a dead give away- pressed into his cheek. Silva wrestles him out of the bed and away from the sheet and the gun presses to his lips once, then jams up under his chin. 

“Be quiet and get moving!” Silva hisses at him and forces him into the hall, then down the hall, to the front door- there is a navy sweater man guarding the door, hands too eager on his rifle and he looks scared. In the light of the hall James sees that Silva is in maroon silk boxers and nothing else

“Two minutes, boss.” The sweater says, looking around.

“Do we have everything?” Silva asks and the man nods. They exit the hotel room into the actual hall and James thinks about yelling but who knows what bystanders might come out and he doesn’t even know what’s going on, other than Silva needs them to move now. He’s shoved down the hall four doors and to the opposite side of the hall and the sweater goes in first to join the others, and Severine is in there too in a maroon silk robe that matches Silva’s underwear- and James’ brain jerks away from that thought so abruptly he stumbles and bangs his shoulder on the door frame. There are five guards and too many laptops and other electronic things from their hotel suites and are taking up too much space in this tiny room. Silva jerks the door shut and hits the lights- the room is tinged blue by the late night city outside- Silva shoves him around, face first into the door so his cheekbone cracks into it a little too hard, then a huge hand presses between his shoulder blades and James-

Kicks back, loses it, too many bad memories-

The gun cocks slowly, loudly and presses hard against the base of his skull.

“Be quiet James.” Silva orders, breath hot on his bare shoulders.

“Get off me.” James tries to make it sound like an order but it comes out a lot more like begging and he hates it. 

“I’m not- There’s too many people here.” Silva says, like that makes it better. “Look out the fucking peep hole, James.” 

James presses his hands to the door and looks out the peep hole- there is nothing but hallway and the sound of too many people breathing behind him and he can’t concentrate with Silva so close and them both too naked. He’s never felt so naked before in his entire life- He thinks back to Severine on the boat, what she’d said as he’d climbed into the shower, and he feels sick inside. His hands itch for a weapon-

There is movement in the hallway, suddenly, agents in full body black tactical gear, guns ready- they troupe past the door and after a long moment there’s a bang and the sounds of a door being kicked in.

Where the gun touches the back of his neck it’s beginning to warm to his skin, less cold and more just hard, grating into the bone almost. 

“Who do you think those people are?” Silva breaths into his shoulder, too close again and reminding James of it. 

“MI6” James tells him, guessing. Most people in black tactical look the same. 

“Mmmhmm.” Silva breaths again, gun petting him, tracing down to the knob of his spine, then looping around it once. Just faintly through the door James can hear shouting and the tone of a voice raised in an order- it’s a woman’s voice, he can tell that much. “What do you think they’re here for?”

“Me.” James tells him.

“Clever boy.” Silva sighs. 

The agents come back down the hall, defeat in the set of their shoulders and James wants to bang on the door, to scratch at it, watching them go past, to shout- but he likes his head and his insides where they are and there’s a gun pressed to his back that’s going to make an awfully big hole in his front. He presses his forehead to the door to keep from doing anything stupid. 

“N-no Ma’am.” A woman says, outside. “No, Ma’am, I know Ma’am.” James looks through the peep hole again and sees one of the agents has pulled her mask up and it’s the woman who shot him- his shoulder throbs in agony at the sight of her- and she’s on the phone, like the last time he saw her. “Ma’am they escaped- I know, I know-“ She sounds scared of M. “Shoot on sight? Are you sure- I’m sorry, I just- I’m sorry Ma’am.” The woman chews her lips and frowns and looks up and down the hall. “No, I’m not questioning you, Ma’am, it’s just I already shot him once- are you sure- No, Ma’am, I understand-“

James wonders when all the air was sucked out of the room and realizes neither he nor Silva are taking the next breath. 

The woman walks off and after a long while Silva lets him up from the door. James turns and presses his back to it, feeling a little better to have something solid to back up against. 

“What did she mean shoot on sight-“ James growls.

Silva shrugs- that fucking gesture again- and tsks. “Mummy is scared you’re going to switch sides. Better to have you dead.” He looks sorry about it, at least. 

“Switch sides?” It’s like they’re talking in Latin, nothing makes sense. 

Silva shrugs again. “I told you Mummy has been very bad.” 

James punches him in the face, just so bloody furious he can’t even think about what he’s doing, and Silva doesn’t duck away from it, lets the fist split his lip and rock him backwards, gun going wide. The navy sweaters don’t take it with the same aplomb, guns trained on him instantly.

“No, no, let it go, it’s fine.” Silva gets between them, hands waving until they all aim at the floor. “I deserve that, I suppose.” Silva shoots him a cheeky grin and wipes a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “We need a new hotel, new id, find out how they found us.” He makes a gesture with his gun hand, still not pointing it at James, and his men get to work on it. Silva doesn’t take his eyes off James though, even when he licks at the bead of blood in the corner of his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, sorry this took so long. The holidays got in my way. Secondly, I wrote this in about an hour before work so I just went back and edited a few things for coherency sake.
> 
> Wound up listening to The Weepies- World Spins Madly On and 12 Rounds- Touching Evil (KMN remix) while I was hammering this out. 
> 
> Random story: I don't eat oranges or any kind of citrus fruit and there was massive "what word do you use to describe the stuff inside the orange" thinking going on. Is is fruit? Do you call it flesh? Pulp? What is that stuff?


End file.
